Insane Asylum
by B.J. Sanders
Summary: Mental Hospital AU. Slashy. "It's not just temporary,it's going to be there forever and there's nothing I can do about it. Turning eighteen doesn't change anything." "No, but it does let you start over." Rated M to be safe.


**Title:** Insane Asylum

**Rating**: M (just to be safe)

**Pairing:** Kirk/Spock (ish) with a dash of Nero/Ayel

**Disclaimer**: If only...

**Summary**: Written for prompt st_xi_kink meme on LiveJournal.

**Warnings**: Self-harm, slash, OoCness, anger/mania, sexual abuse, asylum... um, I don't know what all consitutes a warning.

**A/N:** Also... I kinda have no experience in an asylum or mental hospital of any sort. Almost did once... but I went to California instead. ^^ (For real.) I based it off of media, mostly. (You may recognize some of the things if you've seen the movie that I haven't seen in a long time and can't remember the title of... _Anger_ or something like that. _**Manic - **_that was it. Also drew a bit of inspiration from _Girl, Interupted_ - book and movie.) **AU, and a little SLASHY... er, well, at some points a little MORE than others... ^^**

* * *

The days begin early, and the first thing anyone does is head to the front desk to get their respective medications – plural, because most of the people here need to take more than one. And the nurses always check, too, if someone doesn't swallow. Kirk had tried _cheeking_ once, on his first day, but quickly found out it wasn't a good idea.

Nothing rebellious in a mental hospital was a good idea.

They ate breakfast as a group, in a room that looked relatively similar to his elementary cafeteria, complete with kindergarten colors and all. The food was… almost edible. Complaining wasn't an option.

It was a lot like school, boarding school more so than public school, Kirk thought, because here students weren't allowed to leave until they got better. And, of course, everyone was given drugs like three times a day – there were usually a few more at night, Kirk noticed. Probably something to help with sleep.

There were classes, too, all concerning some form of therapy. And there was recess, but Kirk figured playing basketball with shoes that required shoe laces that nobody was permitted to have didn't make much sense, so when that time came he just sat on the sidelines and admired sweaty bodies moving against each other.

No one told him why he was there, just that there was something wrong with him. One nurse had gone so far as to say that he was fucked up or something along those lines, Kirk didn't remember all of it because they'd had to call in security to pull him off. The drugs they had needled into him had worked fast, so the twenty-four hour isolated confinement hadn't seemed quite so long, but he couldn't remember much of what had happened.

He'd had to explain that in the group therapy sessions he'd been scheduled into everyday at three. It was just a bunch of kids sitting in a circle, crying about their woes of terrible teenage angst. Some were even more screwed up than him.

The doctor that led the group was a man, dark brown hair that was beginning to gray – which Kirk could understand, totally, what with this bunch – kind eyes, and a cynical smile that offset everything, like he'd seen too much but tried not to let it affect him. He was looking around the room, settling on Kirk. A new face, a new introduction.

"Okay, who wants to begin introductions?"

Everyone stayed silent, avoided eye-contact. The doctor sighed, muttered something less than polite under his breath.

"Alright, I suppose I will. I'm Doctor McCoy, and… I know it's cliché as hell, but I'm gonna say it anyway: I can't help you till you learn to help yourself."

Kirk heard a giggle, two seats down from his left a green girl with reddish curls sending him flirtatious-slash-bedroom eyes. "I'm Gaila," she said, still staring at him. "And I'm here because I like sex." She frowned then. "So, really, I don't know why I'm here at all."

There was another girl sitting beside her, a dark-skinned beauty with long dark hair. Kirk found it hard not to stare. "I'm Uhura," she stated, arms crossed. "And evidently I'm here because I'm too smart."

Next was a too-cute Russian boy, with golden curls and pretty eyes. He was blushing the entire time. "I'm Pavel," he said with a thick accent, keeping his face towards the floor. "I… I hev bed self-esteem. Or so I em told."

There was an Asian boy beside him who put his arm around Pavel. "I'm Hikaru Sulu, and they sent me here because I'm eccentric. My family's paranoid," he explained with a shrug.

"I am Spock," was the next one, a tall, thin, greenish boy with pointed ears. He didn't elaborate further, even when the doctor tried to persuade him. Seemed like a friendly guy to Kirk.

There was an empty seat between Spock and the next guy, but they seemed to have similar backgrounds, if the whole green blood thing and pointed ears was any consideration.

"I am Nero," he said politely, legs crossed and fingers gently laid over them. "I am here because I am a woman trapped in a man's body and nobody understands me."

And that really just left Kirk. "Uh…Hi, I'm James Kirk, and I… uh, really don't know why I'm here."

"Sure you do," the doctor said. Everyone was staring at him now; he gripped his sleeves in his hands self-consciously. "What happened to the nurse, Jim?"

Now he _definitely_ had everyone's attention. Jim shrugged, tried to make light of it. "He told me I was fucked up, so I fucked him up. And they put me here."

McCoy nodded. "And why are you here?"

Jim stared at him. "I just told you."

"No, Jim. You know what I mean. Why are you _here_?"

"Because I crashed my dad's car?" he tried.

McCoy didn't approve. "I've read your file. That happened when you were eleven. You're seventeen. Why are you here _now_?"

The doctor stared at him. Jim didn't like this feeling. "My mom," he began, swallowing thickly. "She thought I was destroying my life or something."

"And why would she think that, Jim?"

Jim sighed. Did he seriously have to go into detail?

"Would it perhaps be the unsafe sex? The substance abuse? The reckless driving? The self—"

"Look," Jim interrupted before the doctor could say too much. "I'm a teenager, all of that's normal. Okay, maybe I went a little over the top, but I'm not fucked up. And I'm not crazy. But try explaining _that_ to my mom…"

McCoy smacked his hands together. Everyone stopped looking at Jim, now focused on the doctor. "Okay, we're going to play a game now. I want each one of you to tell me, and the others, one thing that happened in your life that made you feel loved."

Nero almost immediately raised his hand, fingernails a pretty red color that Jim didn't notice before. "The first time Ayel told me he loved me for just being me."

McCoy smiled awkwardly. "Okay, who's next?"

Uhura smiled shyly. "Uh, when I was little, my mom used to read to me."

"Excellent. Gaila?"

Gaila giggled. "The moment just before and just after orgasm."

"…Right. Good example, Gaila. Pavel, Hikaru?"

Pavel blushed and answered quietly. "When eet snows and we are allowed to get ice cream."

Hikaru looked wistful next to him. "My first antique sword. My father bought if for me."

The room fell silent. Everyone looked between Spock and Kirk. McCoy waited.

"I do not feel emotions such as love, doctor," Spock said, his back stiff and his face straight.

Jim hung his head over the back of his chair. What the hell was he going to say?

"Jim?" the doctor prompted. "Something that made you feel loved?"

Jim bit his lip, memories flashing back. He frowned, shrugged. "Can't remember." He gripped his sleeves tighter.

"Can't remember or don't want to share?"

Jim didn't speak. He crossed his arms and watched his feet. No one asked him anymore questions.

-

Kirk shared his room with the solemn one. He was green and silent and meditated instead of slept, but otherwise not much of a nuisance.

Nurses creaked by every thirty minutes or so, shined a flashlight into the room to make sure everything was a-okay. They never said anything, just took a look around and left. No wonder they handed out sleeping pills.

Breakfast, Jim decided, was a torrid affair. And the break room only had one TV, set at whatever the nurses were watching. Cheesy hospital romance had never been Jim's cup of tea, so he mostly just stared out the window like the _homo catatonic_ species beside him, or watched the others in their daily activities.

Art was fun. They got to paint anything they wanted, though mostly the therapist-slash-teacher wanted them to paint something with meaning. Jim painted a black canvas, and when asked about it, told the teacher that it wasn't finished, though he very much wished it was.

Purple and blue in opposite corners. The teacher said it didn't look like it had meaning, that it looked more like a bruise. Jim told her it wasn't finished.

Small splashes of white all over the canvas, some in patterns of constellations, most just random. The teacher came around again, asked what it meant, if it had meaning yet. Jim smiled kindly and politely told her.

"It's my proof that I have sex in bed. My sheets are black."

It was a good way to get rid of her, too bad she didn't get the meaning of the joke.

-

They didn't just have group sessions, it seemed. He met with his doctor on Fridays.

"Jim," McCoy greeted, motioning to a chair opposite his own. "Have a seat." He waited a few moments to speak again. "How are your arms? Healing?"

Jim shifted awkwardly. "Yeah, they're fine."

"Can I see them?"

Jim's fingers clenched around his sleeves. McCoy saw the action, didn't press the issue.

"You know why you were moved back down here?"

"Cause I tried to kill myself?" Jim didn't sound very convinced.

"Yes," McCoy told him. "And because you wouldn't cooperate. They said you were a loose-cannon. Do you believe them?"

"Do you?" Jim shot back.

"I think you're just a troubled kid who needs help but you don't know how to ask. Or maybe you're too afraid to ask. I ain't your stepdad kid, and I don't plan on hurtin' you."

Jim froze. The doctor was trying to be comforting, could see it in his eyes, but Jim didn't want… It wasn't something he wanted to think about, not that.

"Look Jim, whatever he did to you, you're gonna have to talk about it."

"NO!"

McCoy jumped back in shock. He hadn't expected that kind of reply, or much of any reply. And now the kid looked furious.

"Never talk about that bastard! He's not my father! And he sure as hell will never be my stepdad! So shut up! Just shut up!"

There were tears that Jim was fighting back as he hid his face with both hands, started rocking as he drew up into himself.

"Shit," McCoy muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Look, kid, I wasn't trying to… I know how shitty stepdad's can be. Mine was a pretty right bastard himself. But he's only a temporary part of your life. You're almost eighteen, right?"

"That's not the point," Jim snuffled. "It what he's done – it's not just temporary, it's going to be there forever and there's nothing I can do about it. Turning eighteen doesn't make everything right."

"I know, Jim," McCoy said sadly, silently. "But it does let you start over."

-

Jim tossed and turned that night, much to the annoyance of Spock, though he denied that he felt such things. He observed as his roommate slept, or thrashed, rather, in the throws of nightmare.

Kirk muttered, let out mewling cries of pain, threw his arms into the wall until his sleeves bled red. Spock watched and did not intervene.

Jim Kirk, it seemed, had serious daddy issues.

-

The next day at group therapy McCoy was polite, if a little miffed, much to Jim's amusement.

"Sex on black sheets? Really, Jim?"

Jim shrugged half-heartedly. His arms were hurting him, but he didn't let on. "She kept saying I didn't know what I was doing. It's her fault she couldn't tell what constellation it was."

Gaila sighed. "She said draw something with _meaning_," she said, trying to be sexy in her little seat. "I painted a penis entering a vagina and she blushed like a _virgin_."

"Okay," McCoy clapped. Attention was set on him. "We're going to talk about ourselves today, favorite things to do, favorite colors, things like that. I'll start." He cleared his throat. "Uh…I like… bourbon, color blue, playing cards, the Kentucky derby, peaches… Uh, something like that."

Uhura laughed at him, but started soon after. "Languages, books, blue, family."

Gaila smiled seductively. "_Sex._"

Hikaru was next. "Swords, antiques, pirates, plants, flying."

Chekov blushed in embarrassment. "Calculus and Russia."

"Okay, this is good," McCoy said, nodding. "Nero?"

Nero actually _giggled_. Jim shuddered. "I like… Ayel, of course, and ruffles and frills and silk. Lace, too, and pink. Skirts. And girls."

"Ah huh," McCoy swallowed. "Spock? Kirk?"

"I cannot feel _like_ as it is a human preference, and Romulan, as it would seem, but if I were to choose… Vulcan. And silence."

Good ol' Spock. Only now, it was Jim's turn. Was he _always _last?

"I… uh… old cars, driving fast. Red," he added as he caught a spot on his sleeve. Hopefully this ended soon.

"Sharing is good," McCoy said slowly with a smile, mocking his own words as he was sure his patients were. "Now we're going to talk about things we don't like. For instance, I don't like my ex. Uhura?"

Uhura wrinkled her nose as she thought. "Idiots," she finished simply, with a sly glance to Kirk that passed over Nero.

"Care to elaborate?"

She sighed. "Because they're annoying and don't give up."

Gaila thought hard too, biting her lip and twirling her hair. "No sex?" she tried, but McCoy shook his head. "Oh, this is hard. I don't know, I like everything!" Everyone looked at her, her shoulders sagging as she rolled her eyes. "Okay, there was that one guy who turned me down last year – he was an ass, anyway."

"Not my family," Hikaru began, "but the fact that they don't accept me as I am. Also, no onions."

Pavel laughed, covered his mouth. "Russian orphanage because they aren't friendly there. And summer heat here is unbearable."

Nero was practically dancing in his seat with his arm raised. "_Spock_," he spit, stuck his tongue out. "And sizes that are too small because _seriously_ we're not all size zero. Or five."

"Why don't you like Spock?"

Nero huffed. "Because he's a Vulcan and a pain in the ass with all his _I-don't-feel-and-I-am-better-than-you_ crap."

"Uh, right." McCoy scratched the back of his head. "Spock?"

Spock closed his eyes and took a moment to answer. "Meat, for obvious reasons, and people who cannot keep silent. Even when they sleep." Here he opened his eyes and looked straight at Jim.

"I can't really help how I sleep, _Spock_," Jim spat, arms crossing self-consciously. Not like he meant to dream. "I don't like dreams," he said to the doctor. "My stepdad, because he's a dick."

Jim let his breath hitch for a moment before he continued. "I don't like needles, authority figures – including police and people in charge – and, on occasion, myself. Also, I hate band-aids because they never stick."

"Why don't you like yourself?" Gaila questioned, wide-eyed.

Of course that would be the _only_ thing they heard. Jim rolled his eyes. "It's only on occasion. And I'm a _teenager_ – I'm allowed to hate myself every now and then."

Nero sniffed the air, lifted an arched brow. "Doctor, I smell blood."

Spock nodded in agreement and looked at Jim, who swallowed and widened his eyes dramatically. "I believe James sustained damage last night."

Gaila gasped, hand to her chest. "What were you doing?"

"I was trying to meditate," Spock replied, nonplussed. "He, however, was acting as a ravenous animal."

Gaila slapped Uhura's arm. "I _told_ you!"

Jim slapped himself. "Wrong choice of words, Spock. Now they think I'm some kind of animal in bed."

"Aren't you?"

Spock just wasn't getting it.

Nero was squealing.

Gaila looked about ready to pass out.

Jim leaned forward, not like it made much difference, and mock whispered, "They think we have a sexual relationship."

"Certainly not."

"Jim."

Everyone turned their attention to Doctor McCoy, who was frowning and looking at Jim's arms.

"What happened?"

"I told you: bandages don't stick."

"They broke open?"

Everyone watched in confusion as Jim shrugged and winced as he held his arms against himself, drew himself up in his chair. He was small enough to fit, they realized, and he seemed like a child doing it. He _was_ a child.

"Damn it, Jim, I can't help if you don't talk," McCoy added, rubbing a hand down his face. He felt tired, too tired to deal with this kind of withdrawal, but he couldn't help it. This was his job, and these kids needed him.

"Last night," Spock said quietly. "He hit the wall while he slept. He did not notice."

"Jim. Let me see your arms." It was a kindly voice, something a friend might say, but Jim shook his head, hid his face in his arms. McCoy said it with a bit more firmness. "Jim."

He winced and held out his hands, his arms still covered in his sleeves, spots of red appearing and disappearing. McCoy frowned, rolled up one of the sleeves, gasped and rolled up the other. Everyone was looking but nobody said anything.

Jim didn't need to look, knew what to expect. Old scars and new, still pink, and dark red lacerations that still bled; his wrists seeped slowly, sluggishly.

As the doctor patched him up, nobody looked at him.

Nobody looked at him for the rest of the day.

-

The art teacher was being a bitch again, and it wasn't his fault that she was too stupid to figure out that he was painting things about space and not about sex.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Just paint something with meaning. _This_ has no meaning. Are you even listening?"

Jim was trying to hold his temper, but her words were making it hard. The paint brush broke in his grip. Before he could swing, though, one of the other nurse came in, all smiles and looking for him.

"Jim? There's someone here to see you."

The first thought was that maybe it was his mom, or maybe his brother, so he went without question, glad to be rid of the bitch for at least a few moments.

The visitor room was private, with no windows, just a few chairs and a table and a door that was usually closed, like it was when he got there. His stomach was nervous, but he ignored it, smiling at the nurse as she told him he only had twenty minutes. She closed the door behind him before he could tell her not to, and by then, it was too late.

Frank stood before him. Or sat, rather, grinning like the man that he had known when Winona had first brought him over. Jim wanted to back away, to scream for help or something, but he was stuck, frozen in time and he didn't want to be. Especially not with this man.

"Jim, it's good to see you buddy. Are you doing well?" He was smiling, and that made Jim's blood run cold. "Look, about that – I didn't mean it, okay? It was just a misunderstanding. And you're a creative kid, you know? Inventive."

No, this man was not there, telling him it was all just a misunderstanding, just a mess that he dreamed up, that none of it had been real. He _knew_ what had happened, had felt it, still had the scars to prove it.

Frank was beside him before he could think to move away, hand on his shoulder and moving lower. "See, this isn't even real now." He took one of Jim's hands, put it inside his zipper, pressed into him. Frank moved his hand into Jim's pants, put his fingers on flesh, and then Jim flipped, screamed and flailed.

He didn't know what happened, but by the time the nurse came back, Frank was bloody and unconscious and Jim was on him, still punching even though he was crying and shaking. The nurse tried to pull him off, but he fought even more. Security came, sedated him, put him in a jacket and threw him into solitary confinement.

Jim fought the whole way until he passed out.

-

It was middle of the night, it had to be, because it was dark outside and the halls were silent. Jim sat in the middle of the cell, turned and twisted until he could free himself from the jacket. It took some time, but he worked out of it.

His nails dug into to skin freshly healed, and his teeth tore at bandages recently replaced.

Jim felt the blood pool in his mouth, pool around him as he lay on his side.

Frank wouldn't get him again, never again.

-

McCoy cursed security, grabbing the master key as he made his way to the confinement cells. "Put a damn suicidal boy in solitary – some kinda masterminds there," he was muttering.

He would've said more, but in front of the room Jim was supposedly in stood the only Vulcan in the hospital. Spock was just standing there as if enraptured, fingers pressed against the cool metal of the door.

"Spock? What are you doing here?"

He didn't turn around, but pressed further against the door, eyes closed. "His blood was making music and I was the only one to hear. It was quite beautiful, Doctor McCoy, but it has stopped." His eyes opened, and McCoy was struck with an eerie feeling that he knew what the Vulcan was talking about. "Almost."

Spock stepped away then, cleared the path and waved him on. "I would hurry if I were you, Doctor."

McCoy fumbled with the keys, hands shaking in fear of what he might find. The door swung open—and his heart stopped. Jim was pale, too pale, and his blood was too much and too red. "Spock!" he called without thinking. "Help me with him."

Spock pressed his fingers to Jim's wrist, felt sticky blood but didn't mind, counted the beats, low and far between as they were. McCoy tilted Jim's head back, looked into glazed, unfocused blue eyes. "Jim? Jim can you hear me?"

There was a motion of swallowing, half-choking as he tried to speak. "Ngh… dead yet?"

"No, Jim. You're not dead yet," McCoy smiled, smoothing back hair as he took in the damage that would have to be prepared. He was just lucky that Jim hadn't bled as much as he thought.

Spock's fingers were still on his wrist, stopping blood as much as feeling heartbeats, and his eyes were closed in concentration, focused on the beating of Jim's heart and the labored breaths he tried to take. McCoy thought it looked like he was listening to music.

"How long were you watching him?" he asked suddenly, glaring accusingly at Spock.

"It has only been three hours since he started bleeding, Doctor," Spock replied coolly. "There was no reason to stop the music."

"No re—no reason? He's almost _dead_, Spock! Were you just going to watch him die?"

Spock remained calm, even as the emergency doctor's took Jim away. "He would not have died, Doctor. He craves life too much, and love."

McCoy looked on in wonder. He wasn't sure he'd heard the Vulcan talk this much on anything, let alone another being. Without thinking, he replied, "Like you?"

Spock leveled him with a look that McCoy would rather leave undefined. "Curious reasoning, Doctor, but yes, you are correct."

-

It took awhile before Jim could return to group sessions, and even longer before he could leave the room unsupervised, much to Spock's non-admitted annoyance, as he was usually the one leading Jim from session to session and so on.

Jim found he didn't like the attention either, as he was being watched. Constantly. Even so far as into the same bathroom stall.

"Seriously, Spock?" Jim asked awkwardly, shuffling his feet as Spock stood by the door, eyes never leaving Jim's. Spock, it seemed, even had to watch him take a piss. How romantic was _that_?

And watch Spock _did_, eyes traveling from Jim's face, down to his hands, to the little trail of urine. Jim was positive his entire body was red.

Jim jerked off that night, and the night after, sure Spock was watching, and if not, then he was at the very least _listening_. He might have appeared uptight and unaffected, but everyone had a perverted side, and Spock seemed to like to watch, as he found out the third night, hearing rather than seeing the Vulcan wanking as hard as he was.

It was perfectly normal, Jim told himself, too teenage boys getting off with each other. Jim came with a shock at the sound of Spock's voice across the room, moaned into the orgasm as his hips rocked. Spock was grunting now, and Jim wanted very much to help, so he got up and knelt before Spock's bed, opened his mouth.

And then he was swallowing hot green Vulcan cock. Jim thought it was quite possibly the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted as he opened his throat.

Spock fucked Jim's face for most of the night, and by the time breakfast came, Jim found he wasn't very hungry, the taste of Vulcan come still on his tongue and in his belly.

He wanted more.

-

Friday, Jim was smiling as he entered Bones' office, which immediately made the doctor suspicious.

"You seem to be in a good mood today," Bones grumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Yeah, you too," Jim replied sarcastically. "Problems with the ex?"

Bones actually groaned. "Oh, you have _no _idea." But then he brightened and turned his focus on Jim. "Arms healing okay? Again."

Jim laughed lightly. "Yeah, actually. And Spock's keeping a good watch over me." Bones was about ready to open his mouth, an apology of sorts, Jim supposed, but continued before the doctor could say anything. "For my own good, yeah, I get it. Annoying, but not without its benefits."

"I don't want to know." A statement and a fact. "And I'm sorry about Frank. The nurses should have known better."

Jim swallowed thickly but nodded. "It's okay. I have to get over it one day, right?" It was bitterer than he had meant, but Bones got the idea.

"So, any depression lately? Or nightmares?"

"No, not really. Group sessions have been pretty fun lately."

"Oh, you liked that did you?" Bones asked, snarky grin on his face.

Jim was silent in thought for a moment. "What's wrong with Spock? Why's he here?"

Bones sighed. "Jim, you know I can't discuss other patients with you."

"A guy can hope, right?" Jim laughed.

The phone rang and Bones apologized to Jim as he answered. He immediately wished he hadn't. Jim could hear the voice on the other end and she did _not_ sound happy.

"_Damn it, Leonard! I thought you were coming over this weekend – you _know_ she was expecting you!"_

"I know, I know. It's just… something came up." Bones rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"_Something always comes up! Are you coming or not?"_

Jim politely got up and left quietly, Bones giving him a nod of thanks before returning to the phone. Jim winced as the door closed behind him.

"_Are you _there_, Leonard!"_

Oh, he could totally understand why Bones hated his ex – Jim would too if he'd been married to _that_.

-

Bones was gone that weekend, and it told both days to plan it out and to make it happen. By noon on Monday, Jim had the radio in the break room, hidden so the nurses couldn't get it. Everyone was there, including a few he didn't know. He hadn't told anyone, so it came to a surprise when music began pounding through the floor, dark, heavy music lightened by a violin or a cello.

It was perfect for releasing some frustration.

Hikaru and Gaila seemed to be the most into it, making their own grooves across the floor, no rhythm but having fun and laughing. Pavel hid in the corner, bit his fingernails as he watched.

Jim wasn't going to have that.

"Come on!" Jim yelled over the music. "Let loose a little!" He grabbed the wide-eyed Russian by the hands and pulled him out to the middle of the floor, danced strangely around the couch until Pavel was laughing and twirling on his own.

Gaila pulled Uhura in, danced like lovers to their own beat.

Spock was silent by the windows, watching as Jim screamed in time to the song, jumping over the couch and between tables until he landed in front of Spock. Jim was pressed against him before he could blink, leering up in a manner most suggestive.

"Come on, Spock," Jim whispered throatily. "Let loose a little." And then he was backing away, daring the Vulcan with his eyes. Spock took the bait, rushed forward and pushed with a growl. "Come on," Jim said again, and Spock pushed harder. "Come on!"

Everyone was jumping around now, pushing without aggression, like a spread-out mosh pit. Jumping and screaming and laughing. Security was standing my the door, not quite sure what to do, nurses wide-eyed with opened mouths.

And then there was Bones and Jim cursed. The radio was in the doctor's hands, and though he looked amused, he didn't look pleased. The music died as Bones pulled the cord.

"Jim?" he asked expectantly. "Care to explain?"

Jim was out of breath and he stopped in front of the doctor, a smile on his face. "We're just having fun. A little bit of team bonding."

Bones arched his eyebrows as Nero twirled around them in a long skirt, humming his own tune. Spock was behind Jim, chest heaving and breathing heavy. Chekov seemed to be laughing without inhibitions and Gaila actually looked to be interested in something other than sex as she tried to teach Uhura to dance like an Orion slave girl.

"Who wants to play ball?" Bones said suddenly. In his other hand he held their shoelaces. No one, it seemed, was sitting out this game.

-

In group therapy, everyone was laughing. Being a doctor evidently didn't mean that Bones knew anything about basketball, as he had proven several times over. After he took back the shoelaces, though, things turned serious again.

"I like sex," Gaila began, pushing her hair behind her ear. "But I don't want it to control my life. I signed myself in here in hopes that I'd change, but it's harder than I thought." She smiled at them then, looking at each one like she was seeing them for the first time. "I think it's working, though, being part of a team, being part of a family. I haven't slept with any of you, and… surprisingly, I don't feel bad about that."

"I started failing classes and I stopped eating," Uhura started, stretching uncomfortably. "My mom started worrying when I started throwing books at her. My appetite became more regular, though, once I came here. I just, stopped caring. It's still difficult at times, but… I'm learning." She finished with a smile, looking at Nero, who started with the same smile as always.

"I'm here because I'm a woman in a man's body and nobody understands me. That's my story and I'm sticking to it." He paused, gave a naughty grin. "That, and Ayel is just down the hall from me."

"My eccentricities are more… anger management related." Hikaru looked sheepish as he scratched his chin. "I almost killed a guy in fencing one day because of some offhanded comment he made in my general direction. Actually, thinking on it now… I don't think it was directed at me at all…"

"I em… steel shy, but I hev learned improvement," Pavel smiled toothily. "Eet is okay to laugh, and to love, and… I hev not quite became myself yet, but I will get there one day," he promised, cheeks still aflame. "Also, Russia ees best."

Silence fell after the laughter died, and Jim realized it was back down to him and Spock, and everyone was waiting. He thought for sure he'd have to go first, but was surprised when Spock opened his mouth and began speaking in quiet, clipped words.

"I am only half Vulcan," he admitted shamefully. "My mother is human and worries needlessly, which explains the reason as to why I am here and sharing myself the way no other Vulcan has."

Everyone stared in rapt attention. No one, it seemed, had ever heard this story.

"I am… conflicted," Spock said with difficulty, forcing the word out. "I am constantly at a struggle between my human heritage and my Vulcan upbringing. I am not permitted to be myself, and yet that is all I find myself wanting to be. I have learned much in observing human actions here, but not yet enough."

"That's very insightful, Spock," Bones told him, turning to Jim. "Jim? You're the only one left."

Jim let his head fall back as he took a deep breath, preparing himself. "I tried to kill myself," he said simply. "More than once. And I became really reckless. For a while my mom actually thought I might be an albino Orion because of how much I slept around. I never used protection, either, didn't see the point, I suppose," he shrugged, tried not to glance at Spock as he spoke.

"My stepdad… he wasn't a nice man. Nice enough, in the beginning, I suppose, but then they got married and mom started going off planet more, and his temper got worse. He did things, and then I started hurting myself. He made me believe I couldn't be loved, that love didn't exist. I still have trouble believing it now but… I think I'm getting better at it."

Jim smiled then, one of those charming smiles that made even Spock want to blush. "And I haven't hit any nurses lately, so that's got to count for something."

Bones leaned back in his chair. "My turn, I suppose? Well, my wife still hates me as much as I hate her, and you kids are still giving me gray hair, so… I'm stuck here too." He smiled, and was glad when they all seemed to accept the joke.

They were all closer now, and things were beginning to move forward. The thing about this place though – one never knew when things would be put in reverse.

-

Jim and Spock had fought during recess, and no one could understand why. It had been a fierce battle that ended with blood and bruises to each of them, and everyone had been shocked beyond words.

Neither of them were on speaking terms, so it wasn't much of a surprise that night when Jim stayed in the break room and watched infomercials until it was time for morning meds. And no one blinked when he didn't show up for lunch.

By dinnertime, people were starting to worry.

-

Jim had stolen the keys from one of the security guards. It took a few tries to figure out which key was the right one for the front door, but it didn't take long to escape. He almost expected someone to follow, so he ran through woods and fields until he found the road.

There was next to no traffic, so it didn't seem too weird, he hoped, for a lone boy walking down a near abandoned road.

There was no one at the bus stop when he finally found the bench to sit and wait. And wait, and wait.

By night, there was still no bus and even less lights of passing vehicles. There was one that stopped, though, and he hoped he'd get a lift into town. His hopes were soon dashed as the window rolled down to reveal a worried Bones.

"Get in, Jim." He sounded more angry than disappointed, and Jim was almost afraid of what would happen if he did get in the car.

Bones turned around, headed back for the loony bin with a firm scowl stretched across his features. "Why'd you do it?" he asked suddenly, not looking at Jim.

"Just needed to get out," Jim answered half-heartedly with a shrug. "It was getting stuffy in there."

"Right…" Bones didn't believe him. Or, if he did, then he was doing a good job at hiding it.

"I'm scared, Bones," Jim admitted quietly, rubbing his arms. Winter was coming early. "I've never been in love before, so I'm not sure what it feels like, if it's what I'm feeling now, is Spock feels it back… It's confusing and I don't understand it."

They were already in the driveway before Bones turned to him and looked him in the eye. "Jim… I'm not supposed to divulge information on other patients, but as a friend… Spock… it's complicated with him. Vulcans are brought up suppressing everything, but its human nature to express everything. He's conflicted by what he feels for you."

"But he never talks about it!" Jim retorted angrily, slamming back in his seat.

"Neither do you."

Bones had a good point.

"I don't know if I can do this." Jim was drawing into himself again, but Bones wasn't going to let him go that easy. "I'm only a kid. There's still adulthood to go through, and then the getting old part. It seems so impossible, thinking about it now."

"Jim, maybe you should talk with Spock about this. He'd appreciate the conversation." Bones didn't mean to sound so dismissive, but he was tired and he wanted nothing more than his bed at home.

"Maybe you're right," Jim said as he got out of the car.

After he waved goodbye to his crazy doctor, he went inside, surprised at the lack of security.

He kept the keys, just in case.

-

The next morning, everyone knew that Jim and Spock had made up.

That same morning, everyone seemed to know that things would get better, and that life was waiting to be lived.

The day after, they planned to get ice cream down the road. Pavel was the least embarrassed about his excitement. And Gaila danced merrily around them while Uhura hummed a low tune. Hikaru and Jim playfully jousted with fallen branches. Spock actually held Jim's hand, even when Nero obviously teased them.

It would take time, but they could get through this. All of them, because they were no longer alone. They had friends, and family. They _were_ family.

"Hey, _hey_!" Bones yelled across the group, hands waiving. "Hikaru, Jim! Put those goddamn sticks down before you hurt someone!"

Damn kids were gonna be the death of him.

* * *

Hope I didn't scare too many people away with this one... I had a lot more plans, but I couldn't figure out how to work them in.

Er... be gentle in your critcism?

Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
